


Never a Frown

by arachnidstardis



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Past Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, Trans Female Roxy Lalonde, Verbal Abuse, also this is going to be about Jane's fandom experience as well as the whole, being into women thing, i clown on the mortal instruments series a bit, i ended up putting it in more than i thought I would so mind the tags, that is what the refrance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnidstardis/pseuds/arachnidstardis
Summary: Jane Crocker is almost at the end of her senior year of high school. It's January, she has all her college applications in, and she just has to ride out the rest of the year to get out of her small town and on to whatever greater thing she knows she's destined for on the horizon. More importantly, she's the rest of the school year and the summer away from spending time with her best friend Roxy Lalonde.Tune in for bullshit high school shenanigans, fandom experiences in YA literature, Jane Gender?, filling the void in Homestuck where Andrew Hussie forgot to put the Mother Issues, and realizing maybe you're in love with your best friend.
Relationships: Jane Crocker & Dirk Strider, Jane Crocker/Roxy Lalonde
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I cranked this out in like an hour an a half using a sprint bot in a Discord server to see how it worked for me, and it ended up working pretty well? Expect updates whenever I feel like doing that, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/20/2020 - minor grammatical edits and such.

Jane Crocker sat in her bedroom, looking at her CrockerTech (TM) phone, trying to figure out when her package with the book she had ordered was going to arrive. It was a blustery New England winter's morning in January, and she was hoping to get the novel before the snow arrived and they would maybe have a few days off. The polar vortex, or so the weathermen were naming it, was set to bring cold, wet air from the Great Lakes across New York down into Massachusetts and finally into her area of Connecticut. Roxy and her mother, northwest of Jane in upstate New York, had already begun to secure food and firewood and were readying to weather the storm inside, possibly without power. 

She wasn't sure how her own family was going to fare - her father seemed prepared enough, and had stocked up on canned goods. Their heat and stove were gas-powered, not connected to the electricity and recently refilled, so cooking food wouldn't be an issue. Jane was prepared to make some homemade bread in her Dutch oven or some recipes that didn't rely on refrigerated materials to get them through a power outage as well. 

However. What stood to be a tipping point was that Jane's Grandmother was visiting this week for the first time since Jane had left Washington State, and it was beginning to look as though she'd be stuck in the house while Jane and her father were snowed in. Rather, Jane, her father, and her Grandmother would all be snowed in together. Jane had to phrase it like that to make sure she faced it head on - she would be spending possibly more than five days in the same house as her Grandmother, uninterrupted. 

Jane didn't really want to think about it right now, though. She looked back down at her phone. The webpage on her phone had loaded, and she scrolled down. The USPS tracking info displayed that the package with her book was "Out for Delivery," but the flappy dealio on her mailbox wasn't up last she checked! She had just sat down from looking out of the window. It was too early to jump back up and look again. She kicked her legs a little. 

She was again torn away from her train of thought as a notification dropped down from the top of her screen - a Betty Bother chat from Roxy! Two more followed in quick succession. 

"hey bby - just wanted 2 check in 2 see if u'd gotten thot book yet!!  
**that  
not that i think ur a thot lmao ilu"

Jane smiled. Her best friend was really sweet. 

The book Roxy had in mind, and the book Jane was waiting on, was the latest in a young adult series, "Mechanical Lilith," she and Roxy had been following avidly over the past few years. It was a fast-paced, magic-filled tale of a girl plunged into an otherworld full of monsters to hunt and supernatural weapons to wield. Oddly enough, the author had some sort of recurring, flip-flopping plot point regarding the main characters potential to be siblings with her love interest that was beginning to leave a bad taste in Jane's mouth. She hoped this book ended it once and for all. 

Roxy was similarly opinioned, and she had taken the further step of writing a lot of fanfiction about who she would prefer the main character be matched up with. Jane wasn't quite as creative as she was, and participated in transformative works solely from the reading standpoint. Regardless, Roxy and Jane both stayed up late at night IMing about their favorite fics, and Jane had been known to sneak-read fanfiction in the back of her school lessons instead of paying attention. It didn't matter _too_ much, or at least that's what she kept telling herself. She had already read all the material ahead at home when she was taking her notes, unlike most of her other unprepared classmates, and she'd already sorted the material and vocabulary into color-coded notes and flashcards (Her study blog was pretty popular!!). It was fine if she didn't pay attention during class all the time - she wasn't missing anything. 

Her and Roxy's favorite pairing at the moment was between Chrissy, the main character, and the accomplished assassin Marleen ("Marlie," if Roxy was writing), who had been Chrissy's biggest rival during training and who competed with her constantly. Chrissy had the protagonist power of always overcoming her challenges with almost superhuman ease in the novels. This usually left Marleen fuming and vengeful. In the sort of fiction that a dedicated community of Mechanical Lilith series fans had carved out, there was a lot of femslash that fans could enjoy without being subject to the boring, heterosexual tropes of the main series. 

That's what the mods of the Marsy boards on LimeDiary and other related communities centered around the blogging platform Plumblr seemed to unlitaterally agree on, at least. Jane was happy to read whatever Roxy forwarded her, but couldn't help but indulge in some of the het pairings on sample. Not the pairing between Chrissy and Denson that the novel would have you be lead to - no, Jane was a little more interested in a rare pairing between two minor characters that she and a small community of other fans read and contributed to. She had been brave enough to write a few short fills in a recent big bang event for that team's pairing, but she couldn't bring herself to use her main account to post the short fics, or tell Roxy she had participated. 

All-in-all, three and a half years since she left Washington State, Jane did not need her Grandmother Elizabeth Crocker butting her head back into her business for almost a week. 

It had been bad enough living with her during middle school while her father moved to New England to look for a job and a house. Grandmother Elizabeth, or "just Granny, dear," as she had told Jane many times previously, had a solid idea of how little girls should behave. Jane was always to spend her time after school doing homework, preparing dinner with her Grandmother, then participating in some sort of "enriching activity" until bedtime. This usually consisted of sewing, knitting, quilting, or some other "creative endeavor" along with her Grandmother while they watched her horridly conservative police procedurals. Weekends passed much the same, but television still was not permitted until after six o'clock in the evening, so Jane spent her mornings and afternoons reading the dusty old books in her Grandmother's library until evening rolled around and she could indulge in gory mystery. You know, because Jane was never allowed to choose the television programs, except on her birthday. By the time the third year of middle school had rolled around, Jane had convinced her guardian to add the "Crime Scene Investigations" shows and "Bones" to her rotation, but the melodrama and lack of taste in storytelling still persisted. At least the stories in the later years were more interesting.

Jane had long since left the period of her life where she was willing to put up with that sort of high-fallutin' nonsense, excuse her language. She was not going to sit around her whole life sewing and crafting and cooking and otherwise being prepared to be the best little housewife ever; she was an accomplished and intentional woman who was going to go to college, work, and be the breadwinner! Like her father! She wasn't content just being the mantelpiece doll of some man who she'd see for a few hours a week when he wasn't working. 

Her Grandmother Crocker was the same woman who founded the company Jane was supposedly set to inherit, but she had long since turned over control of the company to a board that managed its global footprint. She had no intention of getting her manicured hands too dirty; instead, she luxuriated in the money she had "made" and attempted to get her granddaughter to lead the same lifestyle. Jane had only started taking the title of "Heiress" seriously at the age of fifteen. Before that, she hadn't even considered that she would do anything else besides be the sort of girl her grandmother wanted her to be. Her father had been forced to move when she was eleven, and for a while there she wasn't sure if her new guardian would allow her to leave across the country. She still wasn't positive she would be able to participate in the inner workings and high-up goings on of her family business because of her Grandmother's stance on doing actual work at her age and net worth. Who'd allow the granddaughter of the famously absent Foundress into their company, unless she was spectacularly qualified already?

Eventually, her father found a small old house, and she was released and went to live in a similarly small town. She was suddenly much, much closer to Roxy, and the next year met her at an anime convention.They spent two glorious days together in homemade cosplay, traipsing around the artists' alley and food court together laughing and stuffing their faces with bad food. Jane's father seemed to approve of Roxy, too, and let her stay over once or twice when Roxy's mom let her ride the train down from their mansion in upstate New York. There were still photo booth strips from that convention pinned up on the bulletin board over Jane's desk. 

Jane was shaken from her reminiscing by a knock on her bedroom door. 

"Come in!" she said, brightly. 

Her father opened the door, holding a brown cardboard package in his hand. "Were you waiting on a package?"

Jane stood up. "Oh! Yes, I was expecting it to be delivered to the mailbox! I'm so glad it got here before that dreadful storm that's approaching."

With a smile, Jane's dad handed her the folded cardboard package and produced the kitchen scissors to cut it open with from behind his back. Let it never be said that James "Dad' Crocker was never prepared. "The delivery person put it directly on our front stoop. I'm glad you didn't miss it either!"

She took both items proffered, sitting back down on the bed to carefully open her prize. "It's the next book in that series Roxy and I have been reading! I forget what this book is titled, though; the author usually comes up with something suitably melodramatic. Let's see..." Jane took the hardcover book out of its cradle, setting the cardboard aside on the bed and read the cover. _"The Mechanichal Lilith Book 7 - Angels and Falling Spires."_

Dad shook his head. "That sounds rather intense." 

"I'm sure it will be!" Jane said emphatically, now looking at the inside cover flap. "The ending of the last novel had a cliff hanger in which the protagonist-"

"Cissy, right?"

"Chrissy, but close, Dad! Chrissy was left at the edge of a massive gaping hole where the only remaining portal back to the surface world had stood but moments before! Roxy and I have been waiting to see what happens next for a year and a half now - I have to tell her I have it so we can both start reading!" Jane grabbed at her phone again, and prepared to tell her friend the news.

"I also came up here to let you know your Grandmother is going to get here by dinnertime, so get ready to eat with her this evening."

Jane was silent for a moment. She didn't want to her tell her father she wasn't excited - she hadn't said much at all of how she felt about his mother to his face since she started to realize she was very uncomfortable with a lot of what she had been spoon-fed while she was there. 

She eventually settled on, "That's great to hear!" and a beaming smile. 

Her dad smiled, too. Was it less assuredly than usual? Jane wasn't sure. 

"I'll let you know when she's here. Don't get too lost in that book, now!" He winked, to let Jane know he was kidding, and shut the door. 

Jane retrieved her phone from where she had dropped it in her excitement and shuffled back into her pile of pillows to type out a message to Roxy. 

"Good morning, Roxy! I'm doing well, how about yourself? I did, in fact, get my copy of 'Angels and Falling Spires' in the mail this morning! My father just delivered it to me. How about you; did you get yours? How is the snow up there? Yours, Jane." 

She hit send on the message and smirked. Jane didn't mean to be a pest, but she did like poking fun at her best friend's incredibly informal typing style. She let her phone drop to her chest to wait for a reply, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. 

It was Monday the sixth of January, two thousand and fourteen. Jane was seventeen years old, four months away from her eighteenth birthday. She already had sent all of her college applications in as of December, and was awaiting results to see where she would be going to college. In less than half a year, she would graduate high school. She was so close to leaving her less than idyllic childhood behind and finally getting to see what was really out there, what she really could accomplish on her own two feet without being beholden to whatever her guardians expected of her. Just under six months, and she would be finished with the crushing drudgery of high school and on to some real education! Something that almost assuredly would be like a great adventure, and not at all more of the same. God, she hoped it wouldn't be just more of the same. Her studyblr was gorgeous, yes, but she wanted some fresh, new ideas, something she could actually dig her teeth into, and not the same dusty old novels or the same retreading of boring American history. It was so easy to make your notes pretty when there was almost nothing to think about while you were working on them, not even their contents. 

Her phone buzzed on her chest. Jane picked it up and unlocked it, looking at the new notification.

"hell yeah janey!!! lets get 2 readin :3 :3"

Attached was an image of Roxy, holding her copy of the book next to her winking face, her tongue sticking out from between her black-painted lips. Her eyeliner was heavy and black as well, outlining her pink-contact eyes and thick, dark eyebrows. Her hair was hidden under a pink baseball cap with a white cat embroidered onto the front, and Jane could see the top of Roxy's favorite black sweatshirt. 

Jane smiled, and held her own copy up next to her face to take an image as well. 

The camera opened up, and she looked at her face in the preview image, and her smile faded. She put the book on her lap instead, switched the camera around, and took a picture of it on her legs instead, and sent it over to Roxy with the message, "Ready when you are! :B"

She set her phone down and reached for the book, flipping the front cover open and cracking the spine. Jane had been going to wait until the snow started falling, but Roxy was horrible about spoilers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Goshdarned Book continues to vex Jane, but she has a pretty relaxing day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some grammatical and spelling edits were updated on 12/20/2020.

The book didn't pick up at the cliffhanger.

Instead, for some reason, the author had chosen to skip forward a few years, with Chrissy trapped in the Otherdark all that time. She had grown to be an even more formidable warrior, or so the clumsy exposition told, and the situation with her love interest-slash-possible-brother hadn't been moved forward at all since the last "well, maybe we ARE related" revelation. In fact, the man barely appeared at all. Jane took the book down to lunch, poring over the pages as she prepared herself a can of soup. Her father walked in while she was attempting to pour the soup into a bowl and turn a page at the same time. He tilted the pot upright just as a noodle was about to escape onto the floor.

"Thanks, Dad." Jane blushed and looked back to her book. Usually she was a bit more insistent on separating her leisure activities from her creative ones, but she had let her involvement in this book distract her from keeping an eye on what she was actually doing! Drat.

"So I take it the cliffhanger is being resolved in an interesting manner?" Jane's dad smiled and pulled out the chair at the kitchen table so she could sit down.

Jane set her bowl of soup down, set the base of the book's spine behind her bowl, and held it upright. "Not at all! It's really quite frustrating, but I can't seem to stop myself from finishing the book."

"Want to make sure you get your money's worth?" Her father's tone was teasing, and he ruffled her hair before heading towards the swinging saloon doors of the kitchen.

"Something like that, I suppose. Where are you off to in such a rush?"

Mr. Crocker was dressed to go out, hat securely in place and a thick woolen overcoat hiding his usual business attire. "Oh, I'm just going to try to pick up a few things from the office before the storm really hits. I think I have enough time to leave and come back. Keep an eye out for your Grandmother, alright? She may have taken an earlier train."

Jane sighed internally. "Okay, Dad! Good luck, and please be safe."

He smiled back at her. "Of course. Hold down the fort while I'm gone!"

"Roger that," Jane shot back, and turned her eyes back to the book. She heard the front door open, then click. The air in the house stood still. 

Jane very slowly ate her bowl of chicken noodle, barely taking her eyes off the pages to eat. At one point, she got up to pop it in the microwave for thirty seconds when the soup had gone cold. The sun crept a few degrees lower on the horizon, and she had just passed the halfway mark when she heard the lock on the front entrance turn. Her father pushed the door open. Snow rested on the top of his hat, the shoulders of his jacket, and the cardboard box he held in one arm. His leather briefcase, slung over the opposing shoulder, was stuffed more full than it had been when he'd left. 

"Glad to see you got up and moved a bit while I was gone," Jane heard him say, and she smiled to herself. She flipped the book jacket over her spot and got up to put her long-empty bowl in the sink. She'd wash it later. It wasn't a huge deal. 

She allowed her dad to mess up her hair again as she pushed past him to go upstairs, and retrieved her phone from her bed to check whatever messages she had missed over the past few hours. Roxy had sent her a picture minutes prior of the chapter she had just finished, so she apparently was matching her "bffsie" almost page for page. Jake had posted a truly gorgeous landscape shot to his blog, with some incomprehensible movie quote tacked on at the bottom. It must have meant something to him, but darn if Jane could decipher exactly what that was. Dirk had been offline for two days, and Jane and Roxy suspected it had something to do with a project he had gotten swept up in. Everything, for the most part, was quiet. 

Jane had that sensation of being buffeted by a gust of air, as though she was hovering and her feet no longer touched the ground. She had something dreadful imminently looming over the end of her day, inescapable and inevitable as any other aspect of her family, but it hadn't yet reached her. She still had just a moment to herself before it was all flipped topsy-turvy again. 

She padded down the hall in socked feet to the bathroom, flicking on the light in a practiced motion and closing the door. The snow she had seen blow in slightly when her father opened the door was indeed lightly drifting down outside the window. Not as heavily as it would, but a light harbinger of what was to come. Jane locked the door, pulled open the shower curtain, and started a bath. 

The cabinet under the sink had her bubble bath, tub tray, and shower cap. She covered her hair with the rubber cap, and poured the appropriate amount of bubbles in (a lot was the right amount). Finally, she tested the temperature, found it acceptable, and settled into the filling tub with the tray and her book. She would take these last few hours she had and do something truly relaxing and enjoyable. 

Chrissy was having a hell of a time with her rival, Marleen, in this book. Being trapped on the same plane, in the same Lilith Academy rooms, competing for the top spot in the Mechanical Assassins rankings... all of this was leading to an intense rivalry between the two that was gearing up to be the main conflict of the entire book. Jane was pretty sure of that, anyways. As Chrissy traveled through the halls late at night, too haunted by what she had been cut off from in the world above to slumber, she overheard rumors traded by other sleepless students that Marleen was secretly an agent of the opposing side, the Serapheem Squalor that stood to overtake the entire Otherdark. Could she trust those voices, truly know that it was a reliable source of information? Or was it the work of a Serapheem plant that was attempting to sow dissent in the ranks? Chrissy wasn't entirely sure either way, and her anxieties were sure to come to a head in the upcoming Iron Lily Games that would, supposedly, once and for all prove who was the Lilith Academy's best student. 

Jane stopped reading and kicked her feet in the water a little. The water felt smooth, silky, and warm. She shuffled down a little further into the suds, letting the persistent chill of living in a house built before proper insulation was invented be chased from between her shoulderblades. 

She could sort of see where the plot of this book was going, and was resolved to finish it, but set it down for just a moment to think. After getting almost two thirds of the way through the book now, she still wasn't exactly sure what problems the plot was going to solve that weren't created at the beginning of this novel. Chrissy's supposed destiny, as uncovered with her ascension through the Apprentice ranks of the Lilith academy, was to unite the Overworld and Otherdark, finally ridding the human and mechanical worlds of the burning-bright blight of the Serapheem. This entire novel just felt like a "filler arc," as Jake kept saying about that long-running Japanimation show he was obsessed with. It didn't make sense to write an entire book that seemed to add nothing to Chrissy's story. Jane couldn't think of a resolution to this duel in a closed-off world would be anything but irrelevant to the story as it stood at the end of the last novel. It must have been planned, since the end of the last book had ended in such a manner, but it was stuck in Jane's craw. All it really served to do was push a wedge between Chrissy and Marleen even further....

Jane sat up in the tub. No. That was too conspiratorial for her. Roxy must have been getting to her. 

Setting the book down, Jane stared at the water faucet and the slowly rising water level. The author of the Mechanical Lilith series, Titiana Corinne, was famously shut in, and not very public with her opinions at all. She refused to engage with her fans at present, in stark contrast to her novels' early origins on fan forums in the early 2000s, and while she had never sued a fan of her own works, she had occasionally released statements implying she didn't approve of certain "non-canon opinions." Writing an entire novel to oppose a ship she disliked didn't seem far-fetched in this situation. 

On the other hand, this book was significantly shorter than the other novels. The preceding books in the series had topped four hundred pages consistently, the later few approaching or surpassing six hundred pages. This novel was barely three hundred pages. The time-skip and conflict were also out of line with the previous novels. Previously, Chrissy had been the underdog, the fish-out-of-water, even if she had been growing more confident over time. But here? In this novel? She was hyper-competent, very confident, and barely the scared girl she had been just a book or two previously. That being said, the first five books took place over less time than the jump at the beginning of this particular novel. 

_Curiouser and curiouser..._

Jane finally allowed herself to frown. She didn't pick the book back up; instead, she decided to make a risky maneuver - use her cell phone on the tub tray while the tub was full to message Roxy. She had to be extremely careful not to flub it and drop her phone into the water with her, not in the least because she didn't want to electrocute herself. Assuming it was safe to bathe with a powered-on CrockerTech (TM) cellular device in the first place (a fact Jane was not at all convinced was true), ruining her phone right before her Grandmother arrived would absolutely bring all sorts of rightly-earned criticism down upon her head. Yes, she would do it, because she was so perturbed by this novel's possible agenda, but she'd have to be careful. 

"Roxy, you'll never believe what I just thought of while reading 'Angels and Falling Spires." I dare say it's a bit of a reach, but I wanted to share my thoughts with you regardless. Tell me what you think of this:"

She hit send, and took a moment to compose her thoughts further. Before she could respond, however, a few messages came through in quick succession.

"oh  
em  
gee  
janey  
janeycakes please tell me you had the same idea i had abt the whole dealio w how this stupid book seems to be speciefically about fucking w marlie n chrissy  
*specefically  
*ugh w/e the word that means exactly  
rly wish autocorrect knew that 1 but i fucked it up 2 many times 3:"

Jane felt a smile creep over her face, and rested the bottom of her phone on the hard cover of the "stupid book." It was far more sturdy than the thin metal bars of the bath tray, and she was sure this was a much better idea than putting it directly on the tray. A stellar idea, once again brought about by the mind of Jane E. Crocker. 

"Well, you seem to have come to the conclusion I was about to propose before I could. Splendid. Roxy, I was convinced that this was a far-fetched idea, but you came to the same place so quickly I have to admit I'm more assured I was not thinking rashly."

"dude u're doin thing where u get rly rly formal bc u're nervous pls chill and take a few breaths"

A snort escaped Jane's nose, and she sat up a little. She didn't need to calm down at all.

"Oh, I'm fine! I'm just more than a little mad about this book now!! It cost the exact same as all the previous books but it's shorter, and it feels like a dig at you and me specifically!" 

"aha the truth come out  
does jane is read into this book as much as i did?????  
the answer is  
of course  
Y E S SPELLS YES  
ty for validating my v smart ideas janeypoo"

Fine, Jane could admit she _was_ reading a little bit too much into this book, but...

"The tension between Marleen and Chrissy feels almost too violent to me, Roxy. It doesn't feel the same as when we've seen other fight scenes in this series. I'm in the bath right now or else I'd reference my other copies of the books in this series, but I am convinced she's using more intense and harsh language in these conversations! The antagonist isn't a mindless beast or a braggart overpowered foe; she's someone gunning for Chrissy personally! What is going on in this book?"

Jane pressed send and carefully set her phone down on the accursed novel. Then, changing her mind, she gingerly lifted the entire tray up, off where its long winged legs rested on either edge of the tub, and placed it onto the bath mat. She could then slide all the way down onto her back, put her ears under the water, and think. 

Everything under the water was quieter. Far away sounds were dulled, and the murmurings of the blood moving through her veins and thumping in her ears were slightly amplified and echoing. With her eyes closed, she could almost forget how cold it was outside and how much longer it would be until she felt as warm outside as she did under the water. 

Was it silly to feel something so personal and almost _rude_ about what this book was saying to her? She and Roxy hadn't gotten into the series for the specific pairing they spent a lot of time reading, but what on Earth would have to run through the author's head to write something so pointed, yet just vague enough to pass inspection by an uncaring reader?

Jane thought more. Say it wasn't deliberate. Marleen had been growing in importance for the last two novels, so her role as an antagonist wasn't entirely out of nowhere... accounting for a lot of plot happening in those three years that this novel skipped. Argh! That time skip again! Why, why was there a massive jump during which the author told the audience there were cool and interesting things happening, but not actually showing them!! Wasn't that one of the most basic principles of writing - to show the most interesting parts of your characters' stories? Or was Jane pulling that from somewhere obscure? Her mind swirled a bit, and she lifted her head out of the warm water slowly. The hair at the nape of her neck felt damp, but the shower cap had prevented the rest from getting too wet. Good - she didn't need to wash her hair today.

She sat up enough to stop her head from overheating, and looked up at the shower head. Every few seconds, a drop of water fell and hit the faucet. Jane lifted her toe out of the water. The drop that hit the back of her foot as she raised it above the faucet was cold. She shivered, and plunged her foot back under the water. The spot where the leak had dripped onto her foot felt burning hot for a moment, then faded back into a tolerable temperature.

There were bubbles stuck to her hair, and she was covered in the slight glitter sheen of the bubble bath she had dumped into the water. It had been a semi-sincere gift from Dirk - a bottle of Unicorn Tears Bath Bubbles, "with enough glitter to kill a horse" written on the die-cut paper stallion tag attached to the neck of the bottle with a ribbon. The bottle was shaped like a unicorn, and its horn unscrewed to pour the bubbles out. Jane adored it, and was sparing in her use of the bubbles, but couldn't help herself from using a lot this time. The soap smelled soft and relaxing, like vanilla and velvet. 

After the sun dipped a bit further on the horizon, however, the water began to cool enough that Jane was forced to decide between draining the tub, or adding more hot water. She opted for the former, and sat up to start rinsing the bubbles and excess glitter from her skin. The pads of her fingers had wrinkled, and some of her nail polish had started to chip. Oh, well. She'd redo it tonight. 

Turning on the faucet, she made quick work of rinsing herself off with an old souvenir movie theater cup she or her father had brought home from some premiere, the text long-faded in the heat of the dishwasher and the cup retired to the bathroom. Finally, the suds gone and the tub drained, she dried herself off and retrieved her phone. 

"oooooooh in the bath you say???  
jane you're a very saucy lady why would you say such a think ;)  
*thing ;) ;)  
n e ways  
i completely agree with u this whole book is complete poopy nonsense!!!!  
if i didnt kno any better, i'd say someone else wrote thsi book ;00  
wait  
jane  
janeycakes  
janeylicious bobicious banana-rama fo ficious  
can u pls do some sleuthin n figure out if tatitiania corinne or w/e is dead  
bc i think i kno why this book succkkkkssssss"

Hm. She didn't think the original author of the novels was _dead,_ necessarily, but the name "Tatiana Corinne" certainly sounded like a pen name. She'd have to read through the books again, see if she could find any other narrative inconsistencies. It may be more than just "one author has been replaced by another," if she dug hard enough into forums and social media...

Yes. She had a genuine mystery to suss out while she was stuck in the house. Perfect. Now all she needed to do was make sure she kept her phone and Crockerbook (TM) laptop and Crockerpad (TM) tablet were charged, and if sheused her phone as a wireless hotspot while the power was out, she could investigate to her heart's content. 

She set her phone down on the side of the sink, drying her hair out rigorously with the towel and wrapping it around herself. It wasn't _that_ long of a walk down the hall. She could make it without getting too cold. It was fine!

Jane put away the bath tray and bubbles, then gathered up her things in her arms and prepared herself to open the door into the hallway. As soon as she turned the handle and pushed, the warm air rushed out, and she propelled herself down the hall as quickly as she could. Into her room, shut the door, pull the robe she neglected to grab on the way in off its hook and wrap it around herself, slide her feet into her slippers.... Phew! She was warm again. Jane settled onto her desk chair and warmed up her desktop computer, the only non-Crockercorp device she owned. This one she had saved up for parts and built it with assistance from Dirk over PesterVidChat, at his insistence. He sent her a few key parts, as well, and helped her install some anti-viral measures on it. She wasn't quite sure what all the hullabaloo was about securing her information - she wasn't even in charge of anything yet! Still, it did pay to be prepared. 

Logging into her computer was normal, but she knew that some programs Dirk had written would occasionally sweep through her downloads, or let her know when she clicked a particularly risky or suspicious link. A pop-up character in the shape of a rabbit, sort of like Lil Seb, but an animal, would pop up and ask her, "Are you sure about that, ma'am?" It had a little rabbit mustache, like a bunny Ron Swanson. At her request, Dirk had created a desktop pet version of the bunny that would patrol her computer with art he had drawn, occasionally hopping up on parts of the programs she had open to accompany her mouse around the screen. 

Jane killed a little time playing with the rabbit, which had been designated "Lil Seb Jr.," and opened up Botherium (a hacked version of Better Bother Dirk had made her use on her "safe build" desktop). She was about to message Roxy back when she heard the slamming of a car door outside, and looked out through her bedroom window with a pit in her stomach. A short woman in a dark coat with dark, curly hair had just stepped out of a taxi. She had her arms crossed, unmoving, while the driver stepped out and moved around to the trunk. 

Ah. Jane was finally out of time - _she_ had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane's Grandmother has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added some edits on 12/20/2020, including stuff that makes Betty worse! Enjoy. :)

The sight out the window made Jane's stomach drop to her feet. Some voice that felt suspiciously like Dirk in the back of her head made a crack about the sound that would make, but she didn't really acknowledge it. She couldn't. She'd known this was coming all day, but the actuality of her Grandmother walking up the uneven stone cobbles to her front door was a lot to take in regardless. 

The woman was pointing to where the very disgruntled taxi driver should put her luggage, a service he clearly expected payment for. She obliged by slapping a few bills into his hand and pushing him aside. The man left too quickly for Jane to tell if he was happy with what he was given or not. 

Jane stepped away from the window, already hearing several sharp-knuckled raps on the front door. She turned to her closet. _Drat. Drat drat drat._ She had to get dressed and presentable, quickly. 

The dark wooden wardrobe in the corner of her room was built into the wall, a space above for hanging clothes and a few large drawers below. Jane opened the doors to the top section and flipped through her formal wear quickly. A pair of black slacks or a thick woolen herringbone pencil skirt were her best options for the bottom given the temperature; and for the top, one could never go wrong with her favorite teal cashmere sweater, with the white ribbon-tie blouse. _Fuck._ Skirt or pants? Had to be skirt, just to avoid an argument. _That meant_... Pulling open the top drawer, Jane fished out thick cream colored tights, the same color as the lighter part of the herringbone pattern, underwear, a bra, a light-colored camisole, and finally piled the entire ensemble onto one arm to close the disparate parts of her wardrobe. 

It was a fairly quick matter to disassemble her post-bath be-toweling and re-assemble herself in the dinner outfit, hair a little damp at the edges and curled on her head, but otherwise fine. Too late for makeup, but that would be fine "for her age." The pearl earrings, necklace, and bracelet gifted to her at various "milestone" birthdays would gain favor as well. She'd need it, because she hadn't had time to touch up her nail polish. 

A pair of shiny black flats with tiny, perfect, plasticy bows at the toes completed the ensemble, and Jane took a moment to breathe after whirling around her room for the past few minutes. 

She couldn't have timed it better, as it was that moment that her father knocked on her bedroom door. 

"Jane? Your grandmother is here." 

_Piss and vinegar!_ She was just barely in time, but didn't get to say goodbye to Roxy. Oh, well. 

"Okay, Dad! I'll be down in a sec!" 

Jane sighed, and took one last look at herself in the mirror. Everything went together well enough - she coordinated everything properly, and she supposed the jewelry matched, cream on ivory. She absolutely was not nearly as well put together as usual, but it would hopefully be enough. 

With a sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing her door behind her. The house she and her father had here was a single floor rather than two, but because of the addition that she lived on, it was really about the same size as the house they had in Washington. Just, spread out more. She patted her pockets, realizing she had left her phone on her desk as well. It was almost better that she'd forgotten it - if she brought it out within sight of her Grandmother, she might not get it back from her gnarled grasp. Confiscated for some attention-related reason, revoked because it was an old prototype CrockerTech phone and "not hers anyways." She carefully stepped around the corner of the hall, past old family portraits her father had retrieved from storage, into the living room. 

Elizabeth "Betty" Crocker was dressed sharply, as always. Her hair was a steely gray, white shooting from her temples up into a precise updo. The bright red woolen overcoat Jane had seen her in on the walk was hung up near the front door, and the clothes she wore underneath were equally crimson. Betty wore a bright red tightly-knit turtleneck sweater, a white fork and spoon brooch pinned precisely below her left collarbone. Her ankle-length skirt was loose enough to walk, but wasn't too flowing. Jane thought she recognized it as something designer - equally obscenely expensive and unflattering, but clearly a power move on her part nonetheless. Her shrewd brown eyes flashed in the fluorescent lighting as she turned to greet Jane, thin, red-painted and wrinkled lips stretching into a smile. 

"Jane Elizabeth Crocker! What a joy to see you again, my dear. It has been too long." She opened her arms to Jane, who was standing stock still in the open doorway. 

There was a beat of silence, and Jane lurched forward suddenly towards her grandmother, accepting the hug. She felt trapped there for a moment, staring at the back of the plain couch in the living room, smelling the faintly musty odor of her Grandmother's perfume, before she was released. 

"Um. Hi, Grandmother."

"Please, just Grandma is fine, darling." Betty was still smiling, her dark eyes directed at Jane's. They seemed empty to her, and there wasn't any warmth to the smile. 

Jane's dad cleared his throat. "Well! Mom, why don't you sit down, and we can all have a nice family chat."

Betty made a humming noise at the back of her throat, and went to sit down on one of the armchairs in the room. It was the one her father usually sat in, but Jane wasn't about to tell her that. "Well, son, why don't you draw a fire? Apparently, we're going to be snowed in soon." She reached to grab a pillow off of the couch next to her, placed it behind herself, and shuffled a little further back in the armchair.

"Oh, um, the fireplace doesn't work yet! We have to get it specially cleaned out because the flue is old, and there could be other things that need fixing about it," Jane explained. She sat down on the couch cushion further away from Betty. 

"Hm. That's rather disappointing. The house is a tolerable temperature, at least." Grandmother's voice was cool again. 

Her father, who had left the room a moment before, returned through the swinging doors. Jane found it endearing that he had made sure to take them down off of the old house and install them here - just another little piece of normalcy. He was carrying a tray with a few glasses of warm hot cocoa he had prepared, setting them down on the table. "Here we are! Yes, Jane is right; we've been here long enough with the gas heating that it hadn't seemed like a priority to go out of our way to contact a specialist. Besides, we wouldn't want to risk burning this nice old house down," he finished, sitting down between Betty and Jane on the couch. He picked up a mug of the cocoa. "I just made this fresh, and brought out some mini marshmallows if you'd like!" 

Jane met his eye, and he winked. She reached for a mug, and used one of the three spoons laid out on the tray to scoop a few marshmallows into her drink. 

Betty let out a huff. "Oh, no, thank you dear. I'm actually trying to watch my figure." She smiled at Jane. "You probably still have some time to take advantage of that youthful metabolism, Jane darling, don't worry." 

Silently, Jane looked at the marshmallows now melting in her drink. The four marshmallows swirled slowly in the center of the mug. 

"Oh, it's fine to have a treat now and then, Mother." Dad's tone had a bit of an edge to it that Jane hadn't heard before. 

"Yes, yes. Just not too often, hmm?" Betty leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, pointedly not picking up the mug her son had prepared for her. 

Dad raised his eyebrows and took a sip of cocoa, looking to Jane. "So, how's the book going?" 

"Um, I got pretty far into it! It's not as long as the other entries in the series, which is odd. I've found it to be mostly inconsequential plot beats, and it's a little-" 

"What did you say the title of this series was, dear?" Betty interrupted, smiling beatifically. 

"Oh, um." Jane tapped the sides of her mug. "I didn't, I'm sorry. It's the _Mechanical Lilith_ series; I'm reading Falling Angels and Spires, which is the most recent book." She braved a glance at her grandmother. The woman made eye contact with Jane, then looked away, appearing disinterested. 

"Thank you. It's much more polite to keep everyone looped in, don't you think? Now, go on." She waved her fingers a few times dismissively. 

Jane cleared her throat. "S-sorry. The book is, um, full of these decisions that don't make much sense for the overall plot of the series? It doesn't really make any sense the direction they're taking most of these characters, honestly. It could have been pulled from an entirely different series." 

"Well, that certainly sounds like an odd direction for the author to take. Does the theme differ from the previous books in the series? Is the author trying to say the same thing as before?" Dad held his cocoa, a chocolately mustache on his upper lip.

"Hm. I hadn't thought about the message of this book yet, honestly. The series is usually more about an underdog fighting with some small advantages against a large conflict, like a lot of other "young person goes to a boarding school in a new world" sort of stories. But I can't see this story letting Chrissy be the sort of person who has to work with her allies, even begrudgingly, to solve a problem! She got a lot meaner, and even with the time skip she seems to be acting... Older than she would even be with that gap accounted for? I don't know, Dad, I'm not a huge fan of it." 

Her dad set his mug on a coaster set in the middle of the tablecloth. "That does sound like an awful lot of new directions for a book series to suddenly take. Is it any use speculating as to why?" 

Jane make a humming noise as she thought. "Not until I finish the book, at least... I'll bet Roxy and I will be able to dig some things up and interpret them, but I have to keep ahead of her spoilering ways." 

"Of course! We can't be having you spoiled in this house," Dad laughed, ruffling Jane's hair a bit. 

"Heavens, no. Never spoil a child, or you'll pay for it for years to come." Betty slid back into the conversation with the grace of a dog on rollerskates. "Did you say you had some water in the kitchen? I think I'd much prefer that to anything sugary." 

Dad's lips were pressed together thinly, but he made to stand up. "Yes, I can grab you a glass - "

"Oh, no need, no need! I have this covered, don't trouble yourself. I want to get a look around the place myself." Betty walked swiftly into the kitchen, leaving her son to hurry after her. Jane sat alone on the couch and looked at her cocoa again. She took a long sip, then set the mug down on the table. It was warm and soothing, chocolate with hints of vanilla, cinnamon, and a deep earthy pepper. It wasn't nearly as sugary as someone might expect. Most of the sweetness came from letting the marshmallows melt into the drink, rather than from the cocoa itself. Jane could feel the hot, spiced drink warm her from the inside out. She breathed through her nose, feeling the fire flow through her, out into her limbs. She picked the mug back up, took another sip and repeated the process a few times. The room didn't shift, and nothing changed, but Jane felt her feet settle more firmly onto the ground. She squared her shoulders as her stomach stopped churning. Right - she hadn't eaten very much since lunch, and it _would_ be dinner time soon. 

Betty bustled back into the room, a tall clear glass full of water gripped between her fingers. "Now, son, you know I haven't eaten red meat in years." 

"Yes, Mother, I'm aware. The ragu is for myself and Jane. You're still welcome to some of the homemade meatless red sauce. There's plenty left over from making the ragu - "

"Oh, so you're serving me leftovers! You clearly don't care about your poor old mother at all. I'll have you know I had to take not only a plane and a train to get here, but two dreadful taxis at the beginning and the end of the trip." She settled back into the chair she had claimed, primly crossing one leg over the other. "No one knows how to treat a lady of my status these days!"

Jane saw her father briefly stare into the middle distance, before he seemed to shake himself and reply. "Mother, I made everything this morning. None of the food I'm serving you or my daughter is 'left over,' not that homemade food prepared a day before is necessarily worse off. I just thought that you might enjoy something similar, without the meat, and set aside some sauce to that end. Is that alright?" 

Betty snorted air through her nostrils. "Well, there's no need to be rude about it. Of course I'll have your homemade pasta sauce, dear." 

"Great!" Jane's father whirled on his heel and paced directly toward the kitchen. "I'll have that all heated up in a jiffy, then!" Jane heard the fridge swing open, then slam shut, and the _beep_ s of the oven being preheated. The saloon doors stopped swinging back and forth, eventually. 

Silence stretched across the room for a tense second, then another. Jane felt her Grandmother's gaze sweep around the living room, finally coming back to rest on her. It felt like a white-hot flashlight beam sweeping across a dark meadow, catching Jane like a deer, unable to act. 

"Why don't you tell me about your schooling so far this year, Jane? I'd just love to hear about what you're learning over here on this side of the country." Betty smiled widely, and Jane tried not to look at the cracks in her lipstick. 

"Well, I didn't go to high school in Washington, so I'm not sure how well I can compare it, but the school here is nice."

Betty frowned. "Unnecessary detail. Continue." 

Gulping, Jane continued. "Um. I, um, I'm in the Honors Writing and History classes, and I'm taking the only second-level Physics class at the school. I have to take Geometry to graduate, so I'm doing that, and then I'm taking an extra-curricular sculpture class in my free block. We do five classes a semester, and this is my last semester, so there's not a lot left for me to do," Jane finished quickly. 

"Hmm. You have to take Geometry to graduate - so you took the bare minimum amount of math classes in high school? How do you expect to be a shrewd businesswoman if you don't have the head for numbers, girl?" 

"I-I already took Business Statistics last semester, the rest of my math education is supposed to be in college - "

"And you're not going to get into a very good college if they don't see that you'll work for your place! What do you expect to do, flash the Crocker name and just flounce right into college? I didn't let your father do that, and there's no way I'll let you do that, either. Any cent you want, you'll have to work for." She emphasized the last "work" by pounding her fist into the arm of her chair. 

None of this was new, exactly. Betty delivered some sort of speech about this subject whenever the whim struck her, which was often. She "worked" for every penny she had, and she expected every relative of hers to do the same. No handouts, no allowance, no loans. Just inheritance of a fortune, invested strategically. Hard work, indeed.

At this point in the rant, it would be easier to just let Betty finish. Jane picked up the mug of cocoa, hoping to finish it before it got cold. 

"..and I don't believe that two Honors classes are going to be enough to... Young lady, are you even paying attention to me?" 

Jane's eyes flicked right to her Grandmother. "Um. Yes?" She said, muffled against the mug. 

"Then put that mug down and look at me when I'm talking to you." 

Jane felt her hands begin to shake, and she carefully put the mug down on the coaster closest to her. Before she had to look up, the saloon doors swung open, and her father walked back in. 

"Would anyone like garlic bread before the meal, or should I save the loaf I made earlier for accompanying the pasta?" 

Jane was about to point out that garlic bread could be dipped _into_ the pasta, but Betty spoke faster. 

"Oh, no thank you darling, I don't think I need the extra carbs on top of the pasta. Maybe save that for later."

Dad nodded. "Okay, no bread for you, garlic or otherwise. Jane?" 

"If you want to heat up some garlic bread, I think that would be pretty tasty!" Jane tried to smile, but she wasn't quite feeling it. "Could I come help you make it in the kitchen?" 

"You shouldn't leave your Grandmother," Dad started, but Jane was at least prepared for this. 

"The kitchen table is in there! We can keep having a nice family chat while you and I finish making dinner together," she said quickly. "Plus, it'll be warmer because of the oven and the stove." 

Betty grumbled. "That settles it for me. I can't get back home if my toes fall off from frostbite, after all. Let's go to the kitchen!" She got up and almost pushed her son out of the way in her dramatic haste to get somewhere warmer. Her water sloshed on the old carpet. Jane met her father's eyes, and they both raised their eyebrows. 

Her father hadn't mentioned much about his relationship with his mother, but Jane now realized that he also wasn't thrilled at her arrival, and certainly wasn't excited about the prospect of being trapped in the same house as her for days either. She'd have to remember she wasn't entirely alone in this stupid, hellish situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a blast writing this terrible old woman, jsyk. Poor Jane and Dad 3:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for dinner! :B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags - check those out please.
> 
> Grammar and spelling updates 12/20/2020.

Jane followed her father apprehensively into the kitchen. She ran her fingers over the worn wood of the swinging saloon doors, still slightly shaken to not find her childhood kitchen after passing through. Betty was already seated at the round kitchen table, picking at a thread in the tablecloth. It was the old-fashioned kind Jane knew her father ordered online: the top was waxy and treated, but it was still a cotton tablecloth all the way through. Betty's claws had found a loose loop of thread, and she scratched at it, calculatingly casual. She raised her eyes to meet Jane and her father. 

"Couldn't get pillows for these chairs, son?" 

Jane saw her father's fist, close to her but hidden from Betty, clench. "They're very fine wooden chairs we picked up to match the table and cabinets, Mother, but we could always fetch a cushion from the living room if your hip is acting up again." 

He couldn't have been doing terribly well right now - his syllables came out clipped and harsh, even to Jane's familiar ear. 

"Oh, an old woman will be fine for a few minutes. Continue with your bread escapade, dear. I'll be warming my feet near this radiator." 

The kitchen had been renovated before they had moved in, and Jane and her father were happy to cook and bake with the gas range and stove, and a sizable double-bay sink. There was even enough room on the counter for a dedicated place where Jane's stand mixer rested. It was turquoise, a gift from her father on her sixteenth birthday. In fact, it was one of the few appliances she had been gifted that wasn't red. 

They didn't have to use the stand mixer to make garlic bread, though! Jane busied herself grabbing ingredients from the fridge and shelves - the container of pre-minced garlic from the fridge for convenience's sake, some butter, spices, and a baguette she'd baked the previous morning. She rapped the loaf with her knuckles. It was pretty solid, and ready to be drizzled with garlicky oil and broiled. 

Jane passed the baguette to her father, who had taken a pan out from under the stove and lined it with tinfoil already. He pulled a knife from the block and flipped it around a little, winking at Jane. 

"Dear!" Dad started at his mother's voice, the knife thankfully already resting on the cutting board he'd set down. "Do be careful with sharp instruments like that. We wouldn't want you losing a finger!" 

He said nothing in response, taking the baguette and beginning to make thick slices. Jane tried to make eye contact with him, but he was stony-faced. She turned back to the butter and garlic in front of her. Half a stick of the butter, or a quarter cup of it, went in a glass bowl. She popped it in the microwave for thirty seconds, then flipped her measuring spoons off their wall hook. Jane popped off the lid of the garlic to measure a heaping teaspoon. The microwave dinged, and she punched the button to open the door, grabbed the bowl, flipped the garlic into the melted butter, and set it on the counter. Leaning behind her father, she threw the measuring spoon into the sink, where it landed with a rattle. Bing, bang, boom. 

Jane continued in her rhythm, flipping the silverware drawer open to grab a fork, shoving it shut with her hip, and whisking the garlic into the butter. There were a few small bits left unmelted, but as they broke up and swirled in the hotter liquid, they dissolved. Jane shook in some red pepper flakes, rosemary, oregano, basil, parsley, tarragon, and salt, before using the pepper grinder on the counter to crack black pepper over the top. 

As she finished, her father placed the last bread round onto the pan. Jane handed the oil to him, then pulled two spoons from the silverware drawer and passed one to her father. They both carefully spooned a little bit of the spice and butter mix over each of the bread rounds. Dad grabbed the pan and opened the oven sliding it onto the top rack. He straightened his back and closed the oven door, leaving it open a crack, and hit the "Broil" button on the stovetop.

"Jane, could you grab the bottle of bruschetta from the fridge, please? I'll finish the pasta and sauces." 

Her father's red sauce was an all-day affair starting with crushed and pureed tomatoes, measuring out more water with the emptied cans, adding spices and finally simmering. That was only what he needed to make the sauce itself - he then used some to make the ragu, which had been slow-cooking and filling the house with a warm, delicious smell since that afternoon. The sauce had been heated, and Jane could see the water on the stove starting to boil. 

All-in-all, it would take about fifteen minutes for dinner to finish, which was a perfect amount of time to eat some delicious little crostinis with the bruschetta Dad liked to get from the Trader Joe's. 

Jane set about locating the jar of "Italian salsa," as she once explained it to Dirk, from the door of the fridge. Honestly, it was much better to her when it was cold on top of a recently-toasted piece of bread, but her dad preferred it at room temperature. 

She tapped her father on the shoulder to briefly step aside so she could don her oven mitts and remove the toasts from the oven, then rested the pan on a trivet. Each toast got a small spoon of the tomato mixture, and Jane grabbed a pair of tongs to lift the toasts off the pan and onto a waiting plate. 

Jane held the plate up to her father, who took a toast and bit into it. She spun around and walked to the table, setting the bruschetta and crostini down in the middle and sitting in her own chair across from her Grandmother. 

"Would you like any?" She asked, trying to sound earnest, and reached to take a toast herself. 

Betty scoffed. "No, dear. I already told, you the carbohydrates from the pasta will be bad enough. Really, it's like you don't even know how to eat." 

Jane crunched into the top of the toasted bread to avoid answering. The middle was still a little soft, and the spices in the warm butter mixed with the cold marinated tomatoes. She closed her eyes. _Perfect._

Just then, she heard the noise of water being poured into the sink, and opened her eyes to see a rush of steam billow up from the sink. Dad's head was briefly obscured. 

Hopping up from her seat, Jane bustled to the cabinet that held the dishes and procured three bowls. Dad used a slotted spoon to drop pasta into each bowl, and Jane topped two with the meat sauce and one with the red sauce. The two of them carried the three bowls back, and sat down. 

Jane picked up her fork and prepared to take a bite, but a sharp _cluck_ of a tongue stopped her. 

"Sweetheart, don't you take the time to say your thankfuls at the start of a meal anymore? My, that's not very kind-hearted or respectful at all! Why don't I start, then your father, and then you, Jane darling. That should give you enough time to think of something to say." Betty took a dramatic deep breath. "I'm thankful for everyone who helped me get here, tonight, sitting at this table with my wonderful son and granddaughter who I haven't seen in so long. And, of course, I'm thankful for this dinner that you have... heated up for me. How about you, dear?"

Dad took a moment to answer. "I am, of course, also thankful to spend time with my family. It certainly has been some time since we've all shared a meal together. And I'm thankful that we found a house that had been renovated with a gas line, so we can still cook if the power goes out during the storm." 

"Oh, heavens, don't say anything like that nonsense!! I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome here, and especially in an unheated old house that probably has horrible insulation. I'm sure the storm will pass over just fine, dear." 

Jane thought of the footage she had seen online yesterday of roofs collapsing under the sheer amount of snow in Buffalo, right next to the Great Lakes, and how her Grandmother had lived almost her entire life in the Pacific Northwest. She couldn't see out of the window over the sink, steam clouding the windows, and the sun had started going down at four that afternoon. The snow that had begun that afternoon could absolutely be burying the yard beneath a thick blanket, and she wouldn't know.

"Are you ready, Jane?" 

Her eyes snapped back to Betty, who was smiling emptily. "Oh, um, yes. Sorry." She placed her feet flat on the ground, steadying herself. "I'm thankful for the book that was delivered today, and for getting to talk to my best friend about it. I'm also thankful that my dad makes such delicious food for us. And, um, I'm thankful to get to see my Grandmother after so many years." 

Seemingly placated from the gratitude at her presence, Betty smiled a bit wider, and lifted her fork. "Now we can start," she said benignly, and lifted a bite of pasta to her mouth. 

Jane dug in, trying not to look as though she was eating as fast as she could get away with. Her father had done an amazing job as usual. The meat was rich with the flavors of the wine and vegetables it had cooked in, and the egg noodles were a good complement to the dish. Jane really was thankful for that. 

"So, Jane. You didn't mention which colleges you were thinking about applying to; care to share?" 

Sighing internally, Jane tried to think of an answer that would please her grandmother. "Well, there are a few colleges that aren't too far away I'd like to try. Wellesley is really nice, and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton went there, so it's got some rather prestigious alumna!" 

"'It has some rather prestigious alumna,' Jane, darling." Betty's smile was unmoving.

"Um. Yes, sorry. I, um, I think it'd be a good women's college to go to, though." It had been her first choice, but Roxy had told her it "looked sort of stuffy," and now she wasn't so sure. Hopefully the name was strong enough that her Grandmother wouldn't object, though. 

Betty tilted her head slightly, and said acidly, "Oh, of course. A school _near_ an Ivy, but not truly, actually one. Tell me, Jane, is this the culmination of your high school education _sans_ any proper mathematics classes? I'm sure that's what your public school counselor told you that you should shoot for, that seems right. Not at all pushed or encouraged to perform properly, that's the real failing of how we teach children these days. Where's the motivation to succeed?" Betty seemed prepared to keep going, but her son cut her off. 

"I'm sure whatever college Jane ends up attending will be lucky to have her, Mother. There's not a lot we can do right now save wait for any acceptance letters to come in after a few months have passed." 

Betty let out a _harrumph_. "Or rejection letters. Well, since your father has tabled the subject of college, how about you tell me how your extra-curriculars are going. You must have some of those going on." 

The rest of dinner continued on much the same trajectory - an endless barrage of questions for Jane and her father, mostly Jane, about whether or not their lives were up to Betty's standards. Most things were not - Jane's education, Dad's job, the house, the neighborhood, the drive to the neighborhood... It just kept stacking up. Both Jane and her father had attempted to tactfully deflect at first, but Betty would make a passive aggressive, or outright aggressive remark, and then switch tactics. 

Eventually, long after her son and grandchild, Betty finished her pasta. 

"Well, this has been delightful, but I would like to unpack my suitcase and take a bath, I think. Care to show me to my room, son?" 

Dad stood up. "Absolutely! Jane, could you clear the table, please? I'll take care of the dishes after I get your Grandmother settled."

"Oh, Dad, I'll help you, don't worry! You did most of the cooking anyways," Jane said, already stacking plates and resting the silverware on top. 

"Glad you know how to clear up," Betty muttered on her way out the door. 

Jane sighed, and walked to the dishwasher. It was about ready to load, so Jane rinsed any remaining sauce from the bowls, ate the last bruschetta crostini, and started the washer. Her dad came back down while she was filling the ragu pot with soap and water. 

"So," Dad started.

Jane prompted: "So?"

"I had been hoping she had gotten better since I left, but from your reaction, it was exactly the same for you as it was for me." He didn't elaborate, but Jane didn't need to bust out the magnifying glass to draw a conclusion. 

"Do you remember the first night I got back, and we sat down after dinner to watch a movie?" Jane asked, moving aside to start putting away dry dishes in the right-hand sink as her father scrubbed out the pot he had used to heat the red sauce. 

Dad nodded.

"I didn't really say anything, but I was really surprised when you asked me to pick the movie for that night." 

" _Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School?_ "

"Yes! I really liked that particular one a lot, for some reason. And you just watched it with me and laughed at all the stupid jokes. I just sort of knew it was going to be okay from there on out, you know?"

Dad sighed. "So, we didn't talk about it." 

"No, we didn't. But, you didn't do any of the things she did! You still want to hear about school, and my friends, and my dumb books, and I still want to hear about that lady you keep 'bumping into' at the coffee shop," Jane teased, bumping her father with her hip. He didn't move much, since they both were built roughly the same and he had taken her to her first jujutsu class, but it was the thought that counted.

Wait. He had taken her to her first self-defense class.

"You did a lot of things on purpose, didn't you?" The drying rack was empty, and Jane took the rinsed pot from her father and dried it with a towel. 

Dad smiled wryly. "Which things?" 

"You know! Teaching me things, being-nice-to-me things!"

"Of course I'm nice to you, I'm your father." 

Jane hip-checked him again, harder this time, and he stumbled a bit to the left. 

"Ow!" He laughed, flicking soap suds at her. 

"I mean, you asked me what I wanted to do a lot when I first got back, and asked me _about me_. I didn't really think about it very hard until I had to remember what she was like." 

Dad's expression sobered. "Well. Guilty as charged, I suppose. I wasn't really sure, like I said, but I figured she hadn't changed much." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Jane."

"Dad -"

"Three years with her was too long. Any amount of time was too long, but you had friends in Washington, and -"

Jane put her hand on her father's arm. "You had a job offer that was supposed to work out better than anything in Seattle, Dad. I know why you did it." 

He sighed again. "I suppose. I should have known better than to think she had gotten any better, but I can't really undo that mistake."

It was Jane's turn to sigh now. "No, but we got here, and I've still lived more of my life with you." She clapped her hands together. "Now! What's the plan for the next few days?" 

All the pots were drying now, and Dad walked out of the kitchen to the laundry room and flicked on the back door light. Jane followed him, standing next to the back door window as he held aside the lace curtains. The snow wasn't falling as quickly as rain or sleet, but it was piling up nonetheless. Already, the birdbath in the backyard was full and rounded over with the snow it held, and Jane couldn't even see indents in the snow where she knew the large slate pavers rested in the grass. 

"Well, it may be a bit more than a few days, and it's not like we can play Monopoly," Dad said gravely. 

Jane snorted, then chortled out loud, and her father quickly joined her.

"Hoo-hoo! No, seriously, Dad. What are we going to do?" she asked, wiping her eyes with a finger.

He finished laughing as well, shutting off the light and leaning against the door. "In all honesty? We're just going to have to try to take turns 'entertaining' her until we can convince her it's safe to drive home." He made air quotes with his ring fingers and pinkies, an odd quirk Jane wasn't sure where he'd picked up. 

"I can probably handle the daytime if you need to work from home in your office as long as I can get some time to read and talk to Roxy," Jane offered. 

Dad hummed, thinking for a moment. "Well, I can't say my job won't try to make me work as long as I have an internet connection, so that seems alright to me. It won't exactly be pleasant to deal with some of my clients and her at the same time." 

Jane and her father made eye contact, and they both nodded at each other. "Alright, Dad. I guess we're both running interference for each other." 

"Hell of a snow day activity," he laughed, and gestured out of the room. "Ready to head to bed?" 

"Absolutely," Jane said, fully intending to stay up until one am messaging Roxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, it sure sucks when you realize your guardian has exactly as much power in a situation as you, doesn't it?


End file.
